• A bit about themadnessthatismylife

The Madness That Is My Life…..a blog about my life

~ The madness that is my life…my thoughts, feelings and experiences as I go through life

The Madness That Is My Life…..a blog about my life

Tag Archives: happiness

What does it matter.

01 Friday Jun 2018

Posted by themadnessthatismylife in Friends, Life, Motherhood, Relationships, Uncategorized

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Tags

anger, blog, family, feelings, friends, happiness, hope, life, parenting, parents, reality, relaxation, significance

I’m on holiday in the South of France with the two youngest boys and my mum; the eldest ditched me to stay at home. Can’t say I blame him, I would’ve at his age!

We have had a lovely week. The sun is shining, we’ve swum, played games, sunbathed, read books. It has been awesome. I’ve read three books in 6 days and started a 4th. This never happens. I love spending time with my mum and kids. I don’t get enough of it.

Whilst I am officially on annual leave, I have spent a lot of time emailing and calling work over the past two days as I am changing jobs and had issues with my start date. I’ve done this laying by the pool in between diving in and out, or watching the kids attempts to learn to dive themselves.

Whilst I’ve been doing this the boys have been playing with their friends and my mum has been reading on her kindle, watching TV on her ipad or crocheting. She’s never without a crochet hook within easy reach. She is bloody amazing at crochet. She makes loads of fantastic stuff. She can’t help herself.

Anyway this evening on the last day of our holiday my Mum said to the boys in front of me “I have to say your Mum is always on her phone”.

For some reason this raised my hackles. I have fully participated in this holiday. It is my holiday too after all. Despite the fact that I drove for 14 hours to get us here, whilst they were all watching TV, or reading or crocheting in the car. I’ve swum, taken the kids go-karting, and climbing. I’ve read over three books. I’ve cooked every night (with help from my Mum, of course), but I was being judged because I was using my phone a lot.

Whilst it annoyed me immediately, it’s not worth stressing over and so I forgot about it until I was in the shower. Whilst I was washing, I started to think about how some things appear to be acceptable for others to comment on, but somethings not. For example, I never watch TV. Anyone who has been to my house knows that I actually don’t know how to work my TV. And I don’t have Sky or Virgin, just the standard TV channels. People always comment on this. “You don’t watch TV?” As if I have some affliction..nope I don’t watch TV, not on a regular basis. If I’m not working I read or I catch up with friends, that may be in person or on the phone or via text. I don’t sit and watch crap on TV.

But somehow it’s socially acceptable to sit all evening watching TV. Or all day, and to judge me for not doing the same.

Lots of people spend all their spare time knitting, or like my Mum, crocheting. No one would ever dream of saying to them in a slightly acusatory and judgemental way “Oi Doris, all you ever do is knit” or “Brenda, you are always doing those jigsaws, can’t you do something else”.

What does it matter to anyone else if I’m on my phone rather than doing something that they feel more suitable and appropriate? How is me being on my phone different to any other pursuit, such as reading or sewing?

I don’t get a lot of time that isn’t occupied by work or childcare or other life admin; I keep in touch with those I care about using my phone. Instead of buying newspapers I read the news on my phone. If I’m reading, I often do so on my phone. If I want to watch a documentary I’ll do it on my phone. If I’m working, I can often do it on my phone. I really don’t see a problem with that.

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The abyss.

28 Sunday Dec 2014

Posted by themadnessthatismylife in Emotions

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

darkness, depression, emotions, happiness, mental health, sadness

I have been blessed, on the whole, for most of my life. I have enjoyed reasonable health, had the love of a close family and, whilst I may never have got everything that I always wanted, I have always been lucky enough to have everything that I need. Big difference there really. I might not have got the lottery win I wanted but I had enough money to eat, and I suppose in a list of priorities, eating is pretty high on mine!

In my life I’ve seen beautiful, talented and kind people be totally brought to their knees by depression and if I’m honest I’ve always struggled to understand why. They have everything going for them, yes everything in their lives might not be perfect but whose life is? I would sympathise in the short term, but eventually, and this is probably more a reflection on me than them, I would lose patience. I’d adopt the “they should pull themselves together” stance and eventually avoid them.

I’d avoid them because, if anything in life, I’m a doer. If I don’t like something then I do something about it. If I don’t like my job I retrain. If I don’t earn enough money I get other jobs until I do. If I feel ill I go to the doctors, find out what’s wrong and get it fixed. So, as a doer, it is incredibly hard to see someone who is depressed and can tell you everything that is wrong and listen to any advice that you may have given and then they do nothing about it! I just can’t understand it. At least I couldn’t until a few years ago.

I’d gone into hospital for a routine bladder operation and had had some serious complications. In short I couldn’t pee. I ended up being readmitted to hospital and being discharged with a catheter and a bag and somehow, something inside me seemed to die. It is difficult to describe and even more difficult to understand, even to me.

It felt like the joy had been sucked out of me. As if a Dementor, straight from the pages of Harry Potter had drawn a deep breath and stolen my happiness, indeed my identity. Things which would normally made me smile, I repelled from. I didn’t want my children to come and give me cuddles. I didn’t want the curtains open to see the sun, I wanted them drawn so that my surroundings reflected my internal thoughts.

This internal darkness was all embracing. I didn’t have the emotion I needed to sob even, I would just lay there in the dark, tears slowly falling down my face, with no energy to even brush them away. I felt desolate and alone, yet I was surrounded by everyone who loved me. I couldn’t even explain what was wrong. I just couldn’t face life, nothing invoked any feelings in me, it wasn’t that I felt particularly sad, I just didn’t really feel.

It was like stepping into an abyss. My husband, family and friends couldn’t reach me. I could hear what they were saying sensible words, the type of thing I would say in such a situation, but the words bore no relation to me, they were words to invoke feelings in someone who still felt, and yet I was emotionless.

I was lucky. Less than a week later, my health started to return and with it, gradually my mental health also returned. I have never felt that way again and I hope to goodness that I never do. I have often wondered why this relatively small event threw me into the abyss, when so many worse situations I have been in haven’t. I don’t think there is an answer to that. Perhaps that is why depression is such a difficult thing to deal with. It hits when you least expect it, it demands your entirety and it is extraordinarily difficult to be reached by your loved ones, when you need them most.

So now, I like to think I have more patience with those I care for who have depression. I understand that they aren’t ignoring my advice and support wilfully, they just don’t have enough will inside them to do that. It is just a void, a cloud of darkness, an abyss.

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Through the looking glass.

20 Saturday Dec 2014

Posted by themadnessthatismylife in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

beauty, diet, fat, feelings, happiness, life, mirrors, reflections, skinny

Anyone who knows me knows that I am rubbish at looking in the mirror. It’s not that I can’t do it, it’s just not something that really enters my head on a day to day basis. A lot of my colleagues can vouch for that from all the times I’ve turned up with my hair not brushed, or pen on my face (You don’t know shame until you have delivered a presentation to over a 100 people still proudly displaying bed head!).

I’ve not always been this way, as a young teenager I was pretty obsessed with my reflection. I’d spend ages in front of the mirror, often in tears, wishing my nose was smaller, my lips were bigger and that I was skinnier. I’d carefully apply makeup and fret about my hair looking just right. I was never happy with how I looked. I was not skinny enough or attractive enough neither did I feel I looked old enough.

As I got older I started to take drugs, got a heroin addiction weighed only 5.5 stone and I avoided looking in the mirror. You see every time that I looked in the mirror, it never really felt that the person looking back at me was me. It didn’t quite tally with the person that I thought I was. Or of my self image in my head.

I moved forward in life, I got clean and put on weight. Had two babies, put on 7.5 stone, lost 5 stone. I’ve had blonde hair and dark hair, long hair and short hair. Never has the reflection in the mirror looked right. Never have I thought it reflected the real me.

I’m currently the skinniest I’ve been for years, I know that I look ok, on the outside. I’m not the best looking, I’m not the worst. I’m actually fairly comfortable in my skin. If I was given a gift voucher for a cosmetic surgeon I’d not really know what to do with it. No part of me bothers me that much, unless I focus on it. Which by avoiding mirrors I don’t.

The thing is, the reflection in the mirror isn’t me. I look at the person staring back and she seems ok. Not perfect but she doesn’t look like the self conscious and self doubting woman I know myself to be. She looks normal and in control and carefree. And that isn’t a reflection of how I feel that I am. It’s not how I see myself in my head.

A friend of a friend recently told me that I was the cool kid at school. The one people were in awe of because I was a rebel and knew what I wanted and where I was going (straight into an abyss by all accounts). Today people seem to think I am competent and know what I am doing. obviously they are seeing the same person as I see reflected in the mirror in my bedroom, I wonder how many of them know that they are not seeing the real me?

Because externally anyone can look ok. It’s inside us that counts. The most beautiful person can be evil and the ugliest and fattest can be a generous and amazing person. I wonderhow others see themselves, compared to how I see their reflection. I think that’s more important than beauty, because looks can be deceiving.

There are a lot of reasons that I don’t bother looking in the mirror and none of them are to do with me not caring how I look.

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